The Hangover: Part IV
by eventualprocrastination
Summary: Set 2 years after "Part III". All Phil & Sam wanted was a small, destination wedding with their immediate family and friends with no blackouts or stress. Unfortunately, when the wolf pack is involved, nothing ever goes as planned. No matter where they go. [Indefinite Hiatus]
1. Detained

Phil Wenneck was sitting in a stark room with nothing more than a table in the center of it and two chairs on either side. Along the wall across from him was a mirror which he knew to be a two-way. He'd seen all the cop shows, he knew how this worked. Looking down at his hands, he tried to rub his wrists which were in handcuffs and slightly sore from how tightly and forcefully they'd been put on. He lifted his weary eyes back upward to glance at his reflection, taking in just how disgusting he looked. His hair was slick from sweat and indecipherable debris, he had dark circles around his blue eyes which were bloodshot from exhaustion and he had a cut across his left cheek which seemed to be healing from some earlier altercation. His clothes, soiled as they were, still remained intact. The blue, silk dress shirt he was wearing had the usual grime, but also blood stains all over; and only about half of it belonged to him.

There was a simple overhead light fixture with horrible fluorescent lighting that provided the only light in the windowless room in which Phil sat. More filtered in, however, as soon as the door opened with light from the hallway outside. Turning his gaze, Phil immediately straightened his posture and began to plead with the officer coming in to question him.

"Sir, _please_, you _have_ to let me go. I can't be here right now. And my friends and I didn't do whatever it is you think we did," he implored, holding his handcuffed hands upward slightly in a surrendering sort of gesture.

The officer looked over at Phil and threw a manilla folder down onto the table. "These photos beg to differ," the man replied in a thick Spanish accent; English clearly not his first language. He wasn't dressed as any sort of beat cop, but in a simple suit and tie.

Phil followed the officer's gaze toward the folder and reached for it. Despite the slight restraint from the handcuffs, he still had no problem at all opening the folder and looking inside. As soon as his eyes wandered to the photographs in question, he raised an eyebrow. "These...where did you get these from?"

"Interpol."

"These are from four years ago," Phil remarked, flipping to some photos further into the small stack. "And...what the hell..._Vegas_? Seriously, where did you get these from? Why do you have these photos?"

"It should be me who asks the questions."

"_Then ask_!" Phil bit out. He was tired, stressed, concerned and now thoroughly confused.

"How long have you been consorting with this man?"

Phil narrowed his gaze, trying to listen carefully to his questioning officer. The man's accent was so thick that if Phil didn't pay attention he would miss something imperative the officer was saying or asking. He also had no doubt his friends were in separate rooms, going through the same thing, at the same moment. "Him?" Phil questioned pointing at someone in the photos.

"_Si._"

Phil didn't answer right away. He stared back at the photos and let everything start to sink in about what the officer might be implying. Instead of giving an answer at all, Phil cleared his throat and closed the folder, pushing it away from him. "I want my phone call."

The officer smirked.

* * *

><p>Several police officers were buzzing around as Phil stood at a phone with the receiver to his ear. "Lauren...<em>shit<em>, I think we're in trouble."

_"What's going on now? Did you find—"_

"No, not yet. We were trying to, but we got..._detained_." Phil looked at his questioning officer who was eyeing him up with a knowing grin that felt a little unsettling to the blue-eyed school teacher. "We've been arrested by Barcelona police."

_"Oh my god...for what?"_

Phil let out a sigh. This was not what he needed right now. He had so many other larger things on his plate at the moment.

"Suspicion of terrorism."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Are ya'll excited? I'm trying to make this even more different than the previous story, so bare with me._


	2. What Happy Endings Are Made Of

**ONE WEEK EARLIER**

The halls of Harrison Intermediate School were quiet. _Too_ quiet. On either side of one particular hall, the walls were painted a bland shade of taupe and there were rows of maroon lockers; both colors seemed to purposely match the school's color scheme of maroon and gold. The floor had a shiny glare to it, revealing it must've been waxed recently or that the bottom of the students' and faculty's shoes were impeccable.

Samantha "Sam" Simmons looked down at her own shoes as she walked the hall; she was wearing a pair of red pumps she had treated herself to that very morning. The heels clacked unceremoniously on the hard linoleum below her as she peered into each classroom she passed. Most rooms were empty but a couple of teachers were sitting at their desks, or writing things on their chalkboards to prepare for their next lessons. The classrooms, however, were without students as Sam knew lunch had begun five minutes earlier in the first floor cafeteria.

This meant she only had a short window of opportunity to do what she planned and she knew that Phil Wenneck, her fiancé of the last six months, preferred to eat his own lunch in his classroom because he thought the majority of the other faculty members were complete tools and eating with the students was not an option.

Coming up to classroom 212, Sam peered briefly into the window and saw Phil erasing something from the chalkboard with a can of Coke in his free hand. Without a moment's hesitation, Sam pulled the door open and shut it quickly behind her; the entire time, her focus was exclusively on Phil, who turned to see who had just walked in unannounced.

As soon as his blue eyes fell on her, his initial scowl began to quickly fade into a mischievous grin. He looked her over, from head to toe; from how her auburn locks were curled to perfection thanks to her hairdresser squeezing her in that morning, to the khaki-colored trench coat from H&M and down to her small feet entrenched into those brand-spanking new red pumps.

Quirking an eyebrow, he lowered the hand holding the chalkboard eraser. "Well, hello there."

"Shut up," she remarked. "We only have twenty minutes, give or take." Without another word, Sam untied the belt around her coat and opened it up wide, revealing she was wearing only a pair of black lace panties with matching black lace bra underneath.

The look on Phil's face was not the one she was hoping for. While there was the glimmer of surprise and lust in those sparkly blue orbs of his, he bit his lips together to keep from chuckling. She looked him in the eye, as he narrowed his gaze. She gave him a little shimmy of her body and then followed his gaze to the back of the room where she found someone was sitting.

Quickly, Sam wrapped the coat back about her body and grimaced. "Oh, fuck, _Doug_! You coulda said something!"

In one of the last desks in the back of the room, Doug Billings sat with a hand over his mouth, laughter brimming forth as he offered Sam a sympathetic look. "Sorry," he laughed. "But you busted in here so fast and didn't give me a chance to say hello before you began your striptease act."

Sam closed her eyes tight and then opened them back up at Phil, trying to force a smile. "Well, that was a few shades of embarrassing."

"Aww, baby, it's okay," Phil muttered, still trying his hardest not to laugh in his fiancée's face. He set the eraser down on the chalkboard ledge and his Coke can on his desk. Walking up to Sam, he brought her into his arms and gave her a kiss. "That's the best hello anyone has given me today. Bad timing, sure, but _definitely_ appreciated." He then glanced at Doug who was standing up and walking toward the front of the classroom. "And it's not like Doug hasn't seen you wearing next to nothing before."

"That was _once_ in New York and that was only because of those pictures. We never did remember anything from that night anyway."

"I was actually talking about the times we all went to the beach together with our families and you wearing a bikini, but I like how your mind automatically goes to when we were drunk and tripping on LSD."

Doug placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Really, it's okay. Don't worry about it. I was only here to talk to Phil's class for Career Day."

"Oh, yes, the exciting life of a real estate agent," Sam teased.

Patting Phil on the back, Doug just made a playful scowl at Sam. "Hey, don't knock it. I was both Phil and Stu's agent and found them their homes."

"And great homes they are, buddy," Phil smirked, patting his friend's arm as he moved for the door. "Don't pay attention to Sam. She doesn't realize when she's being mean."

Sam made a face at Phil. "I was not being mean! I was _teasing_..."

Phil chuckled. "Oh, babe, we know. We're just fucking with you."

Sam punched Phil in the shoulder, causing her coat to open a little. "Asshole."

Doug joined in on the joking laughter and gave Sam a reassuring tap to her shoulder. "Alright, well I gotta get going. I have a house to show at one-thirty. See you two tonight?"

Sam turned her head as she and Phil both looked at Doug with a nod of their heads. "Yep. Five o'clock on the dot," she replied.

"Okay, see ya then." Doug waved lamely and headed out of the class, making sure the door closed behind him.

When the coast was clear, Sam gave Phil a playful shove backward and went about retying her trench coat back up, much to Phil's displeasure.

"Aw, come on...we still have," he looked at his watch, "about fifteen minutes."

"The mood is gone, Mr. Wenneck."

"_Ooh_, call me that again," Phil grinned, reaching his hands out to grab at her hips and tug at her coat's belt. When she kept him from untying the belt he frowned and took a step back. "Fine, fine." He sat down on the edge of his desk. "You were the one who came here to surprise me with some afternoon delight, not the other way around."

"Which means I can rescind the offer." Sam walked over to the first desk in the front closest to her and sat down, crossing her legs. "We can still use those fifteen minutes to talk."

"'Cause _that's_ more fun than sex," he muttered sarcastically.

Sam rolled her eyes. After a few moments of the two of them just sharing a gaze, she spoke up with, "So, how come Alan is throwing us a pre-rehearsal rehearsal dinner at his parents' house?"

Phil shrugged, picking up his Coke can and taking a quick sip. "'Cause he's Alan, and that's just what he does."

"Don't get me wrong, it's a nice gesture, but not necessary. I mean, it's not like we don't have a million and one other things we're already obligated to before this circus takes place." Sam placed her elbows on the desk and then her face in her hands, running her fingers momentarily through her locks. Letting out a sigh, she knitted her brow together. "Remind me again why I agreed to let my parents pay for everything?"

"Because we don't make enough combined to throw the type of wedding they approve of."

"And _why_ do I need their approval?"

"Because you're sad and pathetic."

Sam, without looking at Phil, flipped him the bird. "We should've just eloped. It would've been so much easier."

Phil stood up and walked over to sit at the desk beside Sam. Scooting his chair closer to her, he took her hands in hers and smiled charmingly at her. "Just think of it as the people we love want to show their own love for us by throwing us fantastic parties in our honor. All we have to do is show up, look good and have fun."

"Easier said than done."

Phil removed one of his hands from hers and patted his lap, gesturing for her to come over and sit down on it. Begrudgingly, she obliged him. She pushed her chair back and took a couple steps over to him before plopping down in his lap where he readily wrapped his arms around her waist.

"We wanted a small, destination wedding with our friends and family and even though this is turning out to be a hell of a lot bigger than we had hoped, it's still a destination wedding with our friends and family. And your parents are paying for it. Your mother has taken it upon herself to work with the wedding planner and organize an entire ceremony and reception in _fuckin' Ibiza_! You told her your ideal wedding was on the beach in Ibiza and she's giving that to you. Granted, it's being blown out of proportion because your mother's a Jew by marriage," Phil spoke, poking fun with the last part which garnered a small shove to his shoulder by Sam. "Point is, we're going to have an amazing wedding, no matter where it is, or who's there, or how big or small it is. As long as you say 'I do' when you reach the end of the aisle, I'm happy with whatever."

"I just feel like my mother is trying to live vicariously through me," Sam explained. "Her wedding to my dad was small because half of their families didn't even show up because she came from a staunch Catholic family and was marrying into an equally staunch Jewish family. Their parents didn't approve of their union and they had to pay for their own wedding. No one helped them financially. With my sister, my mom got to throw that big wedding she always wanted but it wasn't exactly the way she wanted to plan it because of my sister being a big, honkin' lesbo."

Phil clamped his hands on either side of Sam's face and moved the thumb from his right hand over her lips to hush her up. "Just stop overthinking it all. Let go and let God or whatever." To silence her further, Phil pulled her face down and kissed her lips. When she all but turned to goo amidst the kiss, Phil pulled back and brushed some hair out of her face. "It's gonna be all good."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"And if, at any point, you see me ready to attack my mother, you'll reign me in?"

"Till death do us part."

Sam smiled at that and returned the kiss he gave her. Grabbing his right hand, she pulled it out to the side so she could glance down at his wristwatch. "We have ten minutes until your next class."

Phil met her gaze and raised his eyebrows. He knew immediately what she was getting at. Lifting her up in his arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them over to the classroom door and pulled the shade down over the door's window, then locked it.

"Sounds like enough time to me."

And they sank to the floor.

* * *

><p>Phil and Sam were sitting side by side at the Garner dining room table, with Phil leaning closer to her as he held her hand. On Phil's right, his now fourteen year old son Eli sat, playing with his cell phone under the table. Immediately across from Eli sat Stu, followed by Lauren, Doug and Tracy. On either ends of the table sat Sid and Linda Garner. All, except for Eli, were staring at Alan, who was standing at Sam's left, holdng a composition notebook with a Jonas Brothers sticker slightly noticeable on the cover.<p>

"It feels like it was yesterday that I first met Phil when Doug brought him around in the months before his marriage to my sister, Tracy," Alan was saying, reading from one of the pages in the notebook. "He was so handsome and charming that if I were a gay, I would've wanted to be his lover."

Not even two sentences into his speech and he was already pushing the envelope. Phil immediately covered his face with his hand as Eli looked up and made a face.

"Ew," Eli muttered.

Phil looked briefly at his son then back toward Alan. Stu was slightly wide-eyed at the comment, but the others seemed to be taking it better in stride, chalking it up as another Alan-ism.

"Alan," Sid spoke. "Skip ahead, son."

"Sorry." He only then realized he must've said something wrong when he noticed Phil's expression. "Sorry, Phil." Alan moved his finger down the lines on the page and found a spot to continue on. "Me and Doug, and then Phil and Stu, we became a wolf pack when we went to Vegas, and our pack became almost unstoppable in Bangkok, except for all those times we almost got killed. And two years ago I met Sam and she was awesome."

Sam smirked, looking upward at the portly man who's beard was fully grown back. In truth, it took an eerily short time to grow back to its original length.

"I don't count Lauren's brother Teddy as part of the wolf pack because he was a minor and he cut his finger off like a pussy..."

"_Alan_," Tracy hissed at her brother.

"Sorry," he apologized again. "But Sam earned her place in the pack. Her sister did too, I guess, but she's busy being a doctor in New York with her lesbian housewife."

"_Alan_," came Tracy, Sid and Doug's laments.

"Sorry." Alan looked up and saw all the faces looking back at him. Looking back down at his notebook, he fumbled, trying to find where he'd left off. "Uh...oh yeah, um...Sam earned her place as part of the wolf pack as the bitch and please don't 'Alan' me because that's the real name for a female wolf," he added, making sure no one cut him off. He glanced up at the usual suspects, then contined. "I am very happy for Phil to find a woman who is the Cinderalla to his Prince Charming because the two of them together are what happy endings are made of."

The end of Alan's speech actually took everyone by surprise at how sweet and well thought out it was. Sam was so touched she reached her hand out and gave Alan's a squeeze.

"Aww, Alan, that was beautiful."

Alan smiled down at her. "You're welcome, Sam." He looked at Phil, seeking his approval.

"That means a lot, buddy."

Alan beamed. He appeared a little flustered as he looked down at his notebook and then across at all the faces around the table, then down to his glass of wine which he picked up, staring into its contents. "To Phil and Sam. I hope you get your happily ever after," he toasted, sitting down.

Everyone lifted their glasses. Phil nudged his son to stop texting and do the same. "To Phil and Sam," they all cheered, clinking their glasses together. Taking sips, they each set their glasses back down as Tracy cleared her throat.

"Since we're all together before we leave for Ibiza on Thursday, us girls wanted to discuss something with you guys." Tracy leaned forward to look at Lauren on the other side of Doug.

"Tracy and I talked it over with Sam who is in agreement that we don't think it's a great idea, given the previous three times you guys have gone away together, that you have a bachelor party this upcoming weekend."

Phil was the first to express his displeasure with that announcement. "Wait a minute..."

Sam touched her hand to Phil's arm. "Hear Lauren and Tracy out," she spoke. "I was only a part of the last lost weekend and I know how insane it was. I can only imagine what the two times before that were like and the worry they went through wondering whether or not their grooms were going to make it to the wedding. I don't want that. I don't want to worry about you getting misplaced...or Doug, since his disappearances with you guys seems to be some running gag on a cosmic level."

"We're not saying we don't want you to have a bachelor party, exactly, we just don't want you all going off on your own without some sort of supervision..." Tracy trailed, her tone sounding as if she was questioning her choice of words.

"We want to combine the bachelor and bachelorette parties into one party," Lauren finished the thought process.

"It'll be a Jack and Jill party," Sam added. "Plenty of couples have them instead of separate parties."

Stu and Doug seemed perfectly okay with the idea, either because their respective wives had already informed them of it, or they just liked the idea of extra bodies there to make sure none of them got drugged or misplaced while still being able to have a good time.

"Fine with me," Stu shrugged, bringing his drink to his lips.

"I like the idea of not getting misplaced," Doug added.

Phil was the only one who seemed a little skittish on the idea. "I don't know..." he mumbled, unsure.

Sam looked at Phil. "It really isn't a suggestion, babe. It's a Jack and Jill or nothing at all." She raised an eyebrow at him and flashed him a saucy grin.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he read into them and sighed. Looking across the table at his friends and their wives, Phil finally shrugged. "Alright. Okay, it's a deal. But I make no promises on not getting a little insane. It's my party and I'll go ape shit if I wanna."

Sam kicked him under the table.

"Ow," he leaned forward to rub his shin and added, "It's _our_ party and _we'll_ go ape shit if _we_ wanna," he amended. Catching her eye again, he leaned forward to steal a kiss which she readily gave to him.

Eli leaned forward to look at his father. "Dad, aren't you a little old to be having crazy parties?"

"I'm not even forty yet, Eli," Phil scoffed.

Alan chuckled into his wine glass. "Classic teenager."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** I realized that in both the first or second movie, Doug's career isn't mentioned. We know Stu's a dentist, Phil's a teacher and Alan's a "stay at home son", but we never learn about what Doug does for a living. So, I made him a real estate agent. He seems like he has the perfect disposition for the job. And I liked adding Eli to the "adult table". There's about an 8-9 year age gap between him and his sister, and even though I didn't mention it in this chapter, Phil's daughter Penny, who is five-ish by this point, is sitting at the kiddie table nearby with Doug and Tracy's daughter Sarah, now four-ish, and Stu and Lauren's child who is about two and I won't say what they had or the child's name until the next chapter and if there are any more kids yet. *snicker*_


	3. Bienvenidos a Ibiza

_**A/N:** Not too excited about this chapter as it's mostly just filler; getting the characters from LA to their destination overseas. There's still some lovely moments in here, though, I think. Enjoy either way._

* * *

><p>At just after six in the morning that Thursday, a mere three days after the pre-rehearsal rehearsal dinner hosted by Alan, the usual suspects could be found sitting around the seats at their American Airlines boarding gate. They were tired and slumped against each other, listening to iPods, messing with their phones, reading books, drinking coffees or talking to one another.<p>

Phil had his daughter Penny on his lap. The girl had just turned five and was and had blonde hair like her mother but looked more like Phil than her older brother did. Her feet were still bare from when they'd all gone through security but now Sam was helping her put them back on, trying to show her how to tie them as Phil looked on with a smirk. Beside him, Eli was engrossed with his cell phone in his hands and iPod earbuds in his ear listening to whatever music tickled his teenage pickle. A few seats away, Stu and Lauren sat one seat apart; their two-year-old son Henry sitting between them looking as cute as can be in a pair of plaid overalls and white polo shirt. He was anything but sweet though as he wriggled and squirmed in his seat, starting to throw a fit because he wanted to get down and play and was just overtired from having to be up earlier than normal for the awaiting flight.

Doug and Tracy were sitting a row behind Stu and Lauren, their four-year-old daughter Sarah the picture of well-behaved in her little pink dress and brown locks tumbling down past her shoulders. Even her toe nails were painted pink. In Doug's arms, he was holding a sleeping one-year-old, his second daughter Megan. Because the little one was asleep, it couldn't be seen that she had her daddy's blue eyes. Talking amongst themselves, a few seats over from where Sam was, sat a black woman named Yolanda and a gay, white guy named Sean who was a little porkish like Alan but as manicured as a woman. They had been Sam's closest friends since she first Los Angeles seventeen years before and it only made sense that they were part of the wedding party.

There was also an older couple in their mid to late sixties who bore a striking resemblence to Phil, meaning they were probably his parents. Sam's family was not at LAX because her parents had left for Ibiza earlier in the week to get a head start on everything while her sister Amanda and sister-in-law Emily would be catching the same flight to Ibiza that Sam, Phil and the others would be on after their layover at JFK.

Last but not least, Alan was sitting away from the others, but not too far away. He was wearing a black, tuxedo T-shirt and a pair of khaki pants and sandals. He was taking turns letting his eyes drift from family to family; Phil's, his sister's, Stu's. Alan was frowning, a little sad. As he went to put on his headphones, Penny slid off her father's lap with her shoes finally on, and walked over to Alan and patted him on the knee.

Alan removed the headphones. "What do you want?"

Penny looked up at him with doleful blue eyes and gestured to him so she could whisper in his ear. Alan leaned forward and listened as she cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered, "Is Santa Claus your daddy?"

"Why?"

"'Cause you're fat and have a beard like Santa...but your beard isn't white 'cause you're not old like Santa. Are you his son?"

"_Penny_," Phil chastised, overhearing his daughter.

Alan held up his hand. "No, it's okay. I got this, Phil." He turned his gaze from Phil to Penny. "Santa isn't my dad. My dad's name is Sid Garner. You met him the other night at dinner, remember?"

"Oh."

"But I _do_ know Santa."

Penny's blue eyes widened with delight. "You do?"

"That's why I look like this. I work for Santa," Alan spoke, stroking his beard. Stu turned his attention toward Alan and Penny, listening in on what he was saying and finding it rather sweet.

"I thought you were a stay-at-home son?" Stu questioned with a chuckle in his voice. Phil and Sam both shared the same impish look as they watched the interaction between Alan and Penny.

"I have many jobs, Stu. I like to keep busy," he replied, deadpan.

"What do you do for Santa?" Penny wondered, touching her fingers shyly to her lips.

"I keep him updated on who's naughty and who's nice in Southern California." Leaning closer, he got right in Penny's face and knitted his brow together in seriousness. "Have you been nice this year?"

Penny nodded her head furiously. "Uh huh."

Alan sat back up. "Good. I'll send Santa a text later to let him know," he replied. "What about your brother? Has he been nice?" Alan gestured to Eli who was in his own world.

Penny giggled. "Sometimes. He doesn't let me in his room and when I want him to play with me he shuts his bedroom door in my face."

Phil gave his son a sidelong glance and then smirked back at his daughter. He sat back in his seat, grabbing Sam's hand and lacing his fingers between hers. He stretched out his long legs and continued to listen.

"Sometimes isn't good enough. He has to be nice all the time." Alan pulled out his cell phone and pretended to send a text. Penny's eyes lit up as she watched, enthralled. "I'm letting Santa know your brother has been naughty. He can expect to get a bunch of coal for Christmas."

Penny giggled, finding pleasure in the fact that she believed her brother would in fact get gipped by Santa. She turned and grinned at her daddy and went skipping back over to him. Placing her hands on his knees, she leaned forward and bared her teeth as she smiled up at him. "Eli's gonna get coal for Christmas 'cause he wasn't nice to me sometimes."

"Why does that make you happy?" Phil asked with a laugh.

"Because it's funny."

"Other people's misfortune makes you happy?" Phil rolled his eyes and scooped Penny up to sit on his lap. "Damn, you are my daughter straight to the bone."

Sam laughed and reached her hand up to brush some hair out of Penny's face. Both of Phil's kids had accepted her into their lives pretty easily. Part of it probably had a lot to do with the fact that their mother had already moved on and was already one year married to Lauren's cousin, Ting Deng Sisai, a Thai-born plastic surgeon. They're mom had moved on, so it wasn't a shocker when their dad moved on as well. Eli was the only one who gave any attitude toward Sam at times, but it was only in the context of his teenage hormones getting the best of him. It was never anything truly directed at Sam as if he didn't like her. In fact he was very comfortable with her in their lives. Penny was too young when her parents divorced so all she would ever know was them living separate lives with different people, so Sam fit easily into her world as a second mommy. In the midst of these separate lives and sharing custody of the kids with Stephanie, he was glad that she was not poisoning their minds against him or filling their heads with negativity about Sam. Stephanie was actually pretty amiable about the whole situation and had, just after her marriage to Ting Deng over the summer the year before, confided in Phil that she was truly sorry about how she ended their marriage and he had been a good husband while they were married. Ting Deng was just something she wanted more in her life. It was nothing against Phil, and she remarked that it was meant to work out the way it did, because it led him to Sam who he was really and truly happy with.

Phil looked at Sam as she touched his daughter's face with loving hands, smiling at the five-year-old as if she were her own. Sam was the yin to his yang, the up to his down, the Abbott to his Costello...

"What?" Sam asked, catching Phil slightly off guard. He hadn't realized she'd noticed him staring.

"Oh, just thinking about how you...and me..."

Sam smirked, giving him a knowing look before bringing her gaze back to Penny. "Are you excited to go on a long plane ride to a whole other country?"

Penny nodded. "Where are we going again?"

"Ibiza. It's a beautiful island off the coast of Spain."

"How long is it going to take?"

"Well, we have to make a couple of stops before we get there," Phil cut in. "But, about seventeen hours. Almost a whole day."

Penny frowned. "Why do we have to make stops?"

"'Cause the planes we're gonna be flying on need to put more plane fuel inside them so we can fly the long distances."

"Sammy?" Penny looked up at Sam.

"Yeah?"

"Can you color with me on the plane?"

Phil chuckled lightly at the innocent question as Sam nodded her head. "We'll color all the pages in your coloring book and if we run out, we'll buy another one while we wait at one of our stops."

* * *

><p>Their American Airlines flight out of LAX had left at seven and arrived to JFK sometime after three in the afternoon, east coast time. They had a two-hour layover where they all met up with Sam's sister Amanda and sister-in-law Emily who were introduced to Phil's parents for the first time, and it was only the second time since their wedding two years and three months before that Amanda and Emily had seen Doug, Stu and Alan. And now they're were being introduced to their wives and children.<p>

At five fifteen, their flight out of JFK took off without any delay. About three hours into the flight, it was eight-something in New York but only five-something back in Los Angeles. Phil was seated next to Eli, trying to explain what the time differences were at the moment. Spain was apparently six hours ahead of New York, which meant at that very moment, it was two-something in the morning there but they were all still very wife awake.

One row behind, Penny sat with Sam who kept her promise and was coloring with her. Doug was on the other side of the plane with Sarah seated next to him, coloring with her as well, but was occasionally looking back to throw Tracy sympathetic looks as she dealt with a momentarily cranky Megan who was squirming in her car seat.

"We should've left her home with my parents," Tracy griped. "It's not like she's going to remember this trip. She's only fifteen months old."

"Well, we learn from our mistakes," Doug replied with a bit of a laugh in his voice as he glanced over to his right at the center of the plane that had rows of three seats where Stu and Lauren sat with Henry between them in his own car seat.

Stu met his glance and gave him a nod of the head. Henry was thankfully in a good mood now. He'd napped during the flight from LAX to JFK and was good to go for a few more hours.

Scattered around the rest of economy class, Amanda and Emily were seated together, Phil's parents were seated together and Sam's friends Yolanda and Sean were seated together. The one person not present was Alan, who, at that moment, appeared at the curtain dividing economy from the business class. He was holding the curtain aside and stepped forward, walking toward Phil and Eli.

"How's the flight going for you?" Alan asked.

Phil looked up from his conversation about time zones with his son to meet Alan's gaze. "Uh...good. How's life in first class?"

"Boring. The woman in the seat next to me is sleeping and won't talk to me. So, I thought I'd come visit."

"I don't think you can just stand in the aisle, Alan."

"I'm pretty sure that's not a rule."

"Probably not, but it's frowned upon. They like the aisles clear in case of an emergency."

Alan harumphed. "I should've book a seat back here with the lesser folk." He looked around, resting one hand on the back of Phil's seat and the other on the back of some of some old guy's seat. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and gave a quick flick of his head as if tossing invisible locks of hair over his shoulder and out of his face.

"Dude, we're not sitting back here because we're any less better than the people in first or business class. We're sitting back here because it's more affordable."

"I'm sorry, Phil. I didn't realize I was being classist. Please accept my apology."

Phil shook his head. "Apology accepted. Just...go back to first class and if you want to talk, text me or something."

"But your voicemail says texting is gay."

"Most of the time, yes." Phil could see Eli's raised eyebrow out the corner of his own eye. "Just sit back down, okay?"

Alan sighed. "Fine." He walked away with a wave to Penny in the seat behind Phil and then threw a wave over to the others before disappearing back up front.

* * *

><p>They reached Barcelona, Spain a few minutes after seven in the morning on Friday, local time. Again, Phil explained to Eli how, with the time differences, it was just after one in the morning in New York but in Los Angeles is was just after ten at night and still Thursday. So, while this part of the world they had just arrived in was waking up and starting the day, their internal clocks were still stuck on Los Angeles time and it was night time for them, time to get ready for bed. Especially since they had been up since very early the morning before to get to the airport.<p>

After an hour layover in Barcelona and an extra fifty-five minutes on their Spainair flight, they finally touched down to Ibiza. Once they were all off the plane, they headed out of the gate and made their way to baggage claim where they all picked up their luggage and made their way outside, breathing in the warm Mediterranean air.

A driver was standing beside a large shuttle bus that was parked at the curb outside the airport. He was holding a white placard with Wenneck-Simmons Party written on it in black. Phil gave the driver a nod.

"I'm Phil Wenneck," he greeted, pointing to himself, then gesturing to Sam. "This is Samantha Simmons. We're the names on the sign."

"_Hola, señor, señora. Bienvenidos a Ibiza. Yo te llevaré a tu hotel ahora_," the driver spoke, opening up the door to the shuttle bus for everyone to pile in.

Phil looked confused. "What?"

Sam pushed Phil aside; her luggage rolling behind her in one hand while she also held Penny's hand. "He said hello and welcome to Ibiza and he's going to take us to the hotel." She looked at Phil with a smirk. "How have you lived in Southern California all your life and never learned any Spanish?"

Once they all piled into the shuttle and figured out where to position their luggage, the shuttle drove away from Ibiza Airport and headed about twenty-five minutes slightly north to the town of San Antonio, situated on San Antonio Bay on the west coast of the island. Their hotel was right on the beach and had all the trimmings; fresh water pools, a play area for children, a spa, two restaurants and a bar, even a nightclub. As soon as they checked in, Sam's mother and father appeared in the reception area to greet her daughters.

Not surprisingly, Dr. Colleen Kirkpatrick-Simmons pulled Amanda into a hug first. "How were your flights?" she asked as she finally embraced her eldest.

"Long," Sam replied.

"Well, come get some breakfast by the pool. All of you have to be starving. Plane food isn't exactly preferred cuisine."

"Mom, it's about one thirty in the morning for us. We're tired. Sleeping wasn't easy to come by on the planes. We just want to head up to our rooms and sleep for a while before we get into anything." Weary-eyed, Sam gave her mother a look which caused the older woman to back off slightly

"Of course," Colleen conceeded. "Get your beauty rest but not too long. You and Phil need to meet with the priest who's officiating your service before the rehearsal dinner tonight."

Sam simply smiled at her mother but when she turned to look at Phil, she rolled her eyes. "_No hay problema, mamacita_."

Phil snickered at her use of Spanish as they all walked away from Colleen and headed for the elevators. Everyone's luggage was on several luggage carts similar to the one the guys had used to transport Mike Tyson's tiger six years earlier. Stu was pushing a stroller Henry was sitting in and Doug was doing the same to the stroller Megan was sitting in. Looking between each other, Stu, Doug and Phil all smirked tired smirks.

"This place is gorgeous. You can just smell the salt in the air coming off the sea. It's refreshing," Stu commented with a contented grin on his face.

Alan walked up, holding a pamphlet he must've picked up off of the reception desk. "This says the west coast of Ibiza has an amazing view of sunset every night. We should make sure we see how amazing it is tonight after dinner."

Doug nodded. "Sounds good, Alan."

By the time everyone got to their hotel rooms or suites, depending on what they booked, each and every person all but crashed. Phil and Sam had a two bedroom suite booked but they were going to sleep apart until their wedding night. Phil was bunking in the same room as his son and Sam was going to share a room with Penny. Since Phil's parents weren't well off like Sam's parents, Phil had offered to pay for his parents' room while they were in Ibiza for the wedding. They even worked it so that on their wedding night, Phil and Sam would switch places with his parents so Phil and Sam could have a room to themselves. His kids would end up sharing a room together in the two bedroom suite while his parents took the second room. It worked better that way because his parents would be traveling back to the States with his kids while Sam and him remained in Ibiza for almost another full week as their honeymoon and the two of them would have no use for a two bedroom suite by that point.

Once they were settled into their suite, Phil tucked Penny in to bed to take to the same long nap they were all looking forward to. Phil set his alarm on his cell phone for three-thirty. That gave them about five hours of rest before they needed to be showered and dressed to meet with the priest and then head to the rehearsal dinner Sam's mother had finagled.

Before they parted into their respective rooms, Phil stopped and grabbed Sam's arm, pulling her up against him as he laid a kiss down on her lips.

"Sleep tight," he muttered.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," she replied. Pressing her lips against his once more, they went into their rooms and closed the doors behind them.


	4. The Jack & Jill

Meeting with the priest was surprisingly not as nerve-wracking as Phil had thought it'd be considering he wasn't Catholic, Sam was raised in a household with both Catholic and Jewish faiths, and neither of them were religious. What he had thought to be quite amazing was that out of their love for each other, Sam's mother and father attended religious services together at their respective houses of worship. Saturday evening they went to temple, Sunday morning they went to mass. Phil couldn't help but respect that level of compromise and devotion. Even though Phil and Sam were going with a Catholic-based ceremony, they would be tying in Jewish elements of the Chuppah, or wedding canopy, and of The Breaking of the Glass. The one thing Phil had mostly been concerned about was with most church weddings, the bride and groom have to meet with the priest or pastor several times, but with the ceremony taking place in Ibiza there was no way the two of them would've been able to afford to fly back and forth over the last six months for the typical classes. Fortunately for them, and thanks to Sam's mother Colleen, she was able to ask a favor of her church's priest to marry the pair. Sam's parents were even paying for the priest's plane fare and hotel stay, and the priest, Father Carmichael. He remembered Sam from when she was younger. He had, in fact, been one of the younger priests at the time of Sam's first communion many a moon ago.

After their meeting which had been just the two of them with Father Carmichael, Phil and Sam had walked into one of the hotel's restaurants where her parents had reserved half the place for everyone in the wedding party along with close friends and family who had flown in for the wedding in two days' time.

Phil looked devilishly handsome as usual, dressed in a pair of black dress slacks with matching black dinner jacket over a blue silk dress shirt. His hair was slicked back naturally, and without the need for product and he was clean shaven. As they approached the restaurant together, Phil looked down at Sam who looked, to him, incredibly sexy in a strapless black dress that had some slight ruffle to the bottom of it. It reminded him of the pink dress she wore in New York when they were searching for Doug and Amanda, just in black and this fit her better. She had flattened her hair with a straightening iron but the heat was already starting to cause the ends to curl slightly, just as his hair seemed to naturally curl at the ends.

When they entered the restaurant and joined everyone, their guests clapped or clinked their glasses with their spoons. They took their seat at the head of the three, wide rectangular tables that had been put together for everyone in attendence. Immediately kitty corner to Phil was Stu, his best man. He was chosen over Doug simply because of Sam's connection to him, having been his hygienist for the last five years. Lauren, of course, sat beside her husband with the exceptiong of a high chair between them for Henry to make sure he stayed put during dinner. Doug and Tracy were next, with their daughters also between them; Sarah sitting in on a booster seat and Megan also in a high chair. Alan sat beside Tracy, his eyes constantly migrating toward Phil and Sam. On Alan's left was Eli, then Penny and Phil's dad. At the opposite end of the table from Phil and Sam sat both their mothers; Phil's mom kitty corner to his father, and Colleen next to her. Kitty corner to Colleen was Sam's dad, Dr. Ira Simmons, followed by Father Carmichael, Sam's friends Yolanda and Sean, and then her sister-in-law Emily. At Emily's left and kitty corner to the right of Sam, was Amanda, also the matron of honor.

This wasn't all the people who would be attending the wedding, but it was those immediately involved with it and this dinner was for them to celebrate the bride and groom before the wedding.

"I'd like to make a toast," Colleen announced, halfway during dinner. She stood up with her glass of wine and looked down the table at her daughter and future son-in-law. "I know I have never been the easiest mother," she began which garnered a look from Sam that said, _Gee, no kidding_. "My husband and I always wanted the best for our girls. We wanted them to not only shoot for the stars but to shoot for new galaxies." Colleen focused on Sam. "As soon as my Samantha graduated high school, she sought out her new galaxy and it happened to be Los Angeles, some two and a half thousand miles away. She was our explorer, our adventurer. She had her own ideas and plans for her life that we never saw coming. We wanted her to go to NYU, she went to USC. We hoped she'd become a doctor, she became a dental hygienist..."

Sam's smile began to become slightly forced. She was loathing where her mother might be going with all this. Phil could sense the tension oozing from her and grabbed her hand on the table and gave an assuring squeeze.

"She's tough and strong and beautiful. She might not like to admit to it," Colleen continued, taking her eyes off of Sam to glance around at everyone around the table, "but she is just like me. It was expected of me to marry a good, Irish Catholic boy from the neighborhood and to be doting housewife, seen and not heard. But instead I married myself an amzing Jewish man and I forged a successful career for myself as a psychiatrist. And this amazing man and I," she looked down at her husband, touching his shoulder, "created not one, but two _amazing _daughters. And in two days, my eldest _amazing _daughter will start a new adventure of her own as she marries a man who sees her for the amazing creature she is now, has been and will be for many years to come."

Phil looked at Sam and saw she had tears rolling down her face and was brushing them away with her right hand as soon as they appeared. He gave her left hand another squeeze.

"To Samantha and Phil," Colleen cheered, raising her glass a little higher, signalling the clinking of glasses.

Phil gave a nod of his head to the older woman and then turned to look at Sam once more who was now looking at him as well. They came together in a kiss and smirked, touching their foreheads together for a moment afterward. As Colleen sat back down, Stu stood up and all eyes were on him as he held his own glass of wine out.

"I think I should say something too," he began just as he noticed Alan standing up out the corner of his eye. He made eye contact with the portly man who was wearing a white and dark blue, hemp poncho. "Alan, no." Alan frowned and sat back down, allowing Stu to turn back to his two friends. He smiled upon Phil and Sam and gestured Colleen with his wine glass. "That's a pretty hard speech to follow and I know I'll be making one on Sunday at your wedding reception, but I need the two of you to know that, despite everything we've been through in the past, be it childhood memories of the mischief we made while we were boys together, or as recently as two years ago in New York City and the events which shall not be specified, to protect those involved," he commented with a smirk, which garnered the same reaction from the engaged couple. "No matter what we've done or haven't done or have left to do in this lifetime, you're my friends, and I look forward to seeing all our lives blossoming together. We may not be related by blood, but you're my brother, my sister...you're my family. I love you both and I wish you both the best of everything. Cheers."

Everyone clinked their glasses a second time. Phil leaned over and gave Stu a slap to the shoulder as a way of saying thanks for the kind words, just as Alan stood up again.

"Can I just add something?"

Stu gave a wave of his hand as he sat down. Lauren met his eye and touched his arm, knowing how Alan tended to get under her husband's skin at times.

"I know I made my own speech on Monday, but I just wanted to say thank you for letting me be a part of your wedding. I know I can be weird and I tend to fudge things up when we're all together. I mean well, I really do."

"We know you do, buddy," Phil assured.

"I'm just so happy you wanted me as a groomsman and I think this hotel is the bee's knees. Also, Sam, I know you're thirty-five and you're not exactly a spring chicken anymore, but I hope your marriage to Phil is fruitful and you can bear him some more children because they would be very cute kids." Alan moved to sit back down as Doug facepalmed, though chuckling a bit. Stu knitted his brow together but really wasn't surprised by what Alan had said at all. It was just such an Alan thing to do.

"I'll try my best," Sam replied as Alan began to stand up again.

"Also, if Phil puts a baby in you, I would be available for babysitting and I wouldn't charge."

Phil let out a laugh but tried to cover it as a cough as he brought his wine glass to his lips. "That's sweet of you to offer. We'll keep you in mind."

* * *

><p>After dinner ended, it was followed by a few cocktails on the veranda outside the restaurant that led out to a freshwater pool. Phil and Sam, Doug and Tracy, Stu and Lauren, Amanda and Emily, Yolanda and Sean, and Alan all stood around discussing where they were going to head to for the Jack and Jill party. Meanwhile, Phil's parents, who had known both Doug and Stu since they were boys with their son, had agreed to watch all the kids and make sure they got to bed. Mr. Wenneck was going to stay with his grandchildren in Phil and Sam's suite while Mrs. Wenneck was going to keep an eye on Sarah, Megan and Henry in Doug and Tracy's room.<p>

The sun was starting to set in the sky across the bay. Further out across the sea, too far away for them to sea, was the east coast of Spain, but what they could see was the magnificent sunset Alan had read about in the pamphlet he'd picked up that morning from the reception desk. Phil, Doug, Stu and Amanda pulled their significant other closer as the sun began to disappear below the horizon, casting an array of deep shades of reds and oranges across the sky.

"That is the most beautiful thing ever," Tracy cooed.

"Second most," Doug replied, kissing her temple.

The friends looked amongst each other and finished off their drinks.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road," Phil announced, clapping his hands together.

* * *

><p>An hour later the group was walking together down the hill of San Antonio's West End, looking for a bar to head into for drinks and some dancing.<p>

"How come some of these places aren't even open?" Stu wondered, looking around him.

Alan pulled his pamphlet out again. "Popular bars include Viva, Hush, Koppas, Soul City, Acanthus, Funky Flares, and Tropicanas. The West End's bars are open seven days a week from May through to the end of September, with a limited number of bars open throughout the week in April and October," he read. He looked up from his pamphlet and pointed to some people heading into a bar. "Let's go in there," he pointed to Hush, one of the bars listed in his pamplet.

"As long as we can get our drink on, I don't really give a shit," Phil muttered. He placed his hand on the small of Sam's back as they walked in.

They headed toward the bar first which was slightly crowded. Music was pumping from a DJ spinning the tunes. Phil approached the bar with the guys while the girls all seemed to hang back talking amongst themselves.

"I think we should start out with shots first," Doug announced.

Phil grinned and pointed at his friend. "That's what I'm talking about," he remarked, trying to wave down one of the bartenders. He then looked over his shoulder to Sam. "Babe, you got my wallet?"

Sam opened up her clutch purse and nodded. "Yeah," she answered handing if over to him. "See if they have any Southern Comfort if we're doing shots."

Phil chuckled and nudged Doug. "SoCo, right off the bat...I love her."

Doug snickered and looked over at Alan who was leaning on the bar, looking confused. "What's wrong, Alan?"

"I was wondering if they had cheese sticks here. I have the taste for them."

"Um..._hola_, can I get some assistance down here?" Phil called out like a jackass.

Stu rolled his eyes. "_Perdóneme, señor_!" he shouted in Spanish.

Phil just gave him a look. "You, too?"

"Phil, we're on a Spanish island off the coast of Spain. The people here speak predominantly Spanish. It helps to know a few phrases. No different than expecting people coming to the States to speak English."

It worked, however. A bartender walked over to the guys. "_Hola...qué puedo hacer que usted beber_?"

Stu was stumped then. He wasn't fluent in Spanish. "Uh...shots?"

The bartender smiled and nodded. "Ahh, _Americano_?"

Stu nodded. "_Si_."

"What shots you want?"

"Southern Comfort, _por favor_."

The bartender smiled again. Perhaps he was pleased at Stu's attempt to bridge the gap with the language barrier or by not being a typical tourist who only spoke their native language instead of the local one. "_Por supuesto_...how many?"

Phil turned around to count heads. "Uh...eleven," he replied, flashing all ten of his fingers and then one finger.

Eleven plastic shot glasses were lined up and the bartender poured the amber liquid into each shot glass in one sweeping motion. As Phil went to hand over his credit card, Stu stopped him.

"It's your Jack and Jill. I got this," Stu insisted.

Phil shrugged. "Sounds good to me." He slipped his credit card back into his wallet and then put it in his pocket. He was no longer wearing the dress jacket from dinner, having decided to leave it back at the hotel before they left. The guys had all seemed to have done the same, except for Alan who was still in his poncho.

"Can I start a tab?" Stu inquired, hoping the bartender understood what he meant.

Unfortunately the bartender seemed a little lost, so Phil stepped back and tapped Sam on the shoulder and gestured for her to translate. "You seem to be the fluent one, tell him Stu wants to start a tab."

Sam gave Phil a withering look and glanced at the bartender with a smile. "_Hola. Puede iniciar una pestaña_?"

The bartender nodded and smiled appreciatively. "_Si, si. Gracias por hablar en Español. Mi Inglés no es muy bueno_."

Sam waved the bartender's comment off. "_No es ningún problema. Pasé un verano en Madrid, cuando estaba en la universidad. No te preocupes por mi novio, él es ignorante a veces_," she spoke fluently, gesturing to Phil who looked at her with a questioning stare. The bartender just let out a good laugh.

"What did you just say?" Phil asked her.

"Oh nothing you need to worry your pretty, little head over," she teased, helping him hand out the shots to their friends.

One everyone had shot glass in their hands, they held them up and cheered, then downed them. Stu 'wooed' and slammed his shot glass back on the counter, gesturing to the bartender for another.

Phil laughed when he noticed some guys they didn't know at the bar, with some sort of bright green drink being poured over what looked to be sugar cube on some sort of strainer. "Hey, what's that?"

Stu, Doug and Sam's friend Sean followed Phil's gaze, but it was Sean who spoke up. "I think that's abisinthe."

"Isn't that the drink from the movie _EuroTrip_?" Alan questioned. When he got blank stares, he added, "Or _Moulin Rouge_? Those were fantastic movies. Didn't any of you see them? Especially _Moulin Rouge_. Ewan McGregor totally should've been nominated for an Oscar for that one."

"I've seen _Moulin Rouge_, and I agree. I totally shunned the Academy when they passed over Ewan over for a nom," Sean commented, looking at Alan.

Alan just stared at him, practically glaring at the gay male. "What's this have to do with a school? I'm talking about movies."

Knitting his brow together, Sean just looked away. "_Right_..."

Stu giggled. "Don't mind Alan. He's not always as up to speed as the rest of us," he spoke into Sean's ear so Alan wouldn't overhear.

"I say we try some of that," Phil said, ignoring the banter and pointing to the absinthe the other guys were drinking.

"Isn't absinthe supposed to be illegal in, like..._every_ country?" Stu questioned, seeming uncertain. "Not to metion..._hallucinogenic_," Stu stressed, trying to allude to their last foray with LSD in New York.

"It's actually become legal since the late nineties because the whole hallucinogenic claims were being disproved," Alan remarked.

Of course he would know that.

"Perfect!" Phil exclaimed happily to which Stu flashed Doug a nervous gaze. "Bar man! Absinthe, _por favor_!"

The bartender moved away from the men he was finishing up with and returned to Phil and the guys while the girls began to return their focus to them, curious about what they were going on about.

"Absinthe?" Amanda asked, warily.

"_Once absentas_?" the bartender questioned.

"What's _once_?" Doug wondered.

"Eleven," Sam replied.

"Oh."

"Yes, _once_," Phil confirmed to the bartender.

"I dunno about this, Phil." Stu was looking over at the bartender putting out eleven full sized glasses and making drinks in all of them.

"Relax, Alan said it's not supposed to be hallucinogenic."

"And we're relying on Alan's word?"

"Sure," Phil shrugged. "Alan's full of random information that ends up being surprisingly helpful."

"But what if we get crazy?"

"That's what the girls are here for, to reel us in and babysit our asses."

"Yeah, but we're _all_ about to drink absinthe. _Even_ the girls."

"Well, we'll only do this one drink of absinthe and then we'll dance it off, okay?" Phil stared Stu down, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's my Jack and Jill and I say it's okay." Phil was bumped suddenly and he looked to his left at Sam who was frowning up at him.

"It's my party too, jackhole." She turned her green eyes upon Stu. "It's okay, Stu. One drink isn't going to kill us."

"Yeah, see? We'll be fine. How much more assurance do you need?"

The drinks were soon made and once again everyone was being handed one. Despite the excitement of imbibing this drink that spent almost a century being banned in many countries, everyone was a little apprehensive at the same time.

"On the count of three?" Phil remarked as more of a question.

They held their drinks up.

"One," Doug announced.

"Two," Tracy added.

At once, they all shouted, "Three!"

Clinking their glasses all together, they brought them to their lips and let the sweet, green spirit pass down their throats.


	5. We Have A Situation

**11 HOURS LATER**

Phil's back was aching. In the dark abyss of sleep, he could sense the feel of cool stone underneath him, wherever it was he was, as he began to pull toward consciousness. With his eyes closed and the world slowly coming back to him, he tried to piece together some form of tangible thought as he wondered why his hotel bed was so hard and cool.

And who the fuck was suddenly nudging him in the side with their shoe?

Grunting, Phil's eyes fluttered open and he turned his head further to the side to peer up at what looked to be a nun glaring down at him with her arms folded across her habit.

"_Qui ets i què estàs fent a terra? Aixequi. Aixequi aquest instant, senyor_," she was speaking at him.

Phil knitted his brow together and turned his face back down then to look straight ahead before moving his arms out from underneath his chest, placing his palms on the cool ground beneath him and pushing himself up. Slowly, he began to climb up to his knees where he stopped and looked back up at the nun.

"Sorry...uh...where am I?" Looking around, it appeared he was in some sort of very large Gothic cathedral.

"_Què_?" she shook her head, not knowing what he was saying. She then unfolded her arms and gestured sternly at him to stand up. "_A dalt. Posa't de peu en els seus peus_."

"Huh? I'm sorry. I don't speak Spanish."

"She is not speaking Spanish, sir," came a male voice in a thick Spanish accent, but clear enough to understand.

Phil realized where in the cathedral he had been sleeping; on the altar area. He winced. Oh, he was going to hell for this one.

"She is speaking Catalan." The man speaking was a Catholic priest, who was approaching Phil and the nun. "It is the co-official language of Catalonia."

"Cata-what now? Where am I?" Phil asked, finally on his feet. He was running a hand through his hair and suddenly he suddenly felt light headed. He teetered to the side and the priest grabbed his arm to prevent him from tipping over.

"You are in _Catedral de la Santa Cruz y Santa Eulalia_. You are, I take it, American. It might just be easier for you to call it Barcelona Cathedral."

"Wait. Barcelona? I thought you said I was in Cata—"

"Catalonia. Yes, Barcelona is the capital of Catalonia, which is one of seventeen autonomous communities here in the Kingdom of Spain."

"No," Phil began to shake his head.

"Yes," the priest insisted, gesturing to the nun that it was okay for her to leave. "_Està bé, germà. Vostè pot obrir les portes ara_," he said to her.

"_Molt bé, pare_." She turned and glared one last time at Phil before walking away toward the main entrance, her shoes clacking softly on the ground.

"No, this cannot have happened again," Phil muttered. He turned to the priest. "I'm sorry, Father, but I gotta find my friends and get out of here. I'm getting married tomorrow."

The priest nodded in understanding and smiled. "Congratulations."

"Thanks and, uh...sorry...for sleeping on your altar. I don't know how I wound up there."

Once more the priest nodded and smiled. "I was not always a priest. I understand."

Phil flashed him a smirk and gave a wave as he stepped down from the altar, grimacing at how sore he felt from having slept on such a hard surface who God knows how many hours. He looked down at his wrist watch which said it was ten minutes before nine in the morning and judging by past experience, he was probably only going on about three hours of sleep. Four if he was lucky. Letting out a yawn, he felt around for his cell phone and was thankful to find it in his back pocket. He fiddled around and then brought the phone to his ear, looking around at the amazing architecture but not really giving a fuck.

_"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Dr. Stuart Price. I can't get to your call right now because I'm out of the country and busy with my best friend's wedding. If you leave your name, number and message I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is a dental emergency—"_

Phil didn't finish listening to the rest. Why wasn't Stu answering his phone? He always answered. As he walked by a grouping of pews he saw something out the corner of his left eye and turned fully to find Alan asleep on one of said pews. Sliding into the row, Phil leaned forward and smacked Alan on the back of the knee, causing the potbellied man to jerk awake and fall about two feet to the floor below.

"Alan, wake up. We have a situation."

Whimpering from his face making contact with the floor first, Alan did his best to sit up and turn to face Phil. "Phil?" he asked nervously, sleep keeping his from opening all the way at the moment. "Did it happen a fourth time?"

Phil let out a languid and frustrated sigh. "I think so." He offered Alan his hand and helped him up to his feet.

Alan, who was without his poncho from the night before but was surprisingly fully dressed, glanced around at where they were. "Are we in a church?"

"Yeah," Phil answered. "In Barcelona."

As that bit of information registered with Alan, his eyes widened with amusement and he giggled a little under his breath. Phil stepped back out of the pew and flexed his shoulders backward till he heard a small pop and relief flooded his senses. That was the tension in his back he needed to get rid of from sleeping where he slept.

"I just want you to know, Phil, that I didn't drug any of us," Alan assured right off the bat, touching Phil's arm. "Did _you_, Phil? I won't think any less of you if you did."

Phil looked down at Alan's hand, then up at his face, shaking his head. "No. I learned my lesson after New York."

"Maybe we just drank too much?"

"Maybe. It _has _been a while since I drank excessively. But I can't actually remember how much I might have drank." He gestured for Alan to follow him as he began to walk down the center aisle area between two sections of pews that led to the altar. "Let me try and call Stu's phone again. He's always with us when we wake up so he has to be around this church somewhere."

Phil went to Stu's number again and just let the phone ring without bringing it up to his ear. He listened carefully to hear ringing from another phone. Alan looked at Phil and followed suit, cupping his hands over his ears to help him hear better. And, sure enough, the closer they got toward the confessionals, the more pronounced the sound of a phone ringing could be heard.

Phil smirked and knocked on the confessional door the ringing was coming from. "Hey, Stu, it happened again," Phil began as he opened the door and peered inside at the figure slumped over with Alan's poncho covering their head like a security blanket.

"Hey, my poncho," Alan pointed out.

"Stu. Wake up, man." When Phil reached inside and pulled the poncho out, tossing it over to Alan, he stopped what he was doing and just stared inside the confessional. "_Doug_?"

Inside, Doug was stirring awake, trying to adjust himself from the awkward position he had been sleeping in. Bringing a hand up to his face, he ran it back across the top of his head, blinked a few times and then finally focused on Phil and Alan staring back at him. "Hey, what time is it?"

"About nine in the morning," Phil replied, not understanding why Stu's cell phone was ringing in a confessional where Doug was, but more importantly that Doug had woken up with them after a blackout and wasn't lost for the umpteenth time.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck. What time did we get to bed?" Doug was sitting up a little more, not completely registering where he was just yet.

"Probably only a few hours ago."

"Hey, we didn't lose you, Doug," Alan remarked, pulling his poncho on over his head and momentarily getting caught in it.

That's when it finally hit Doug. His eyes widened and he stood up. "Shit, what happened?" He began to pat himself down for something, maybe checking for missing appendages.

"We had another blackout," Phil explained. "And we're in some cathedral in Barcelona."

"Barcelona?" Doug couldn't believe his ears. "How did we get here? It took an hour by plane to get from the Barcelona airport to the Ibiza airport yesterday. Did we get here by someone's plane or by someone's boat? Oh, shit. Tracy's probably worried about where I am..."

Alan pulled something out of his pants pockets. It was the pamphlet from the day before folded up in three parts. Opening it up, he scanned it over. "Ferry boats from Sant Antoni to Barcelona can take up to nine hours of travel time," he read.

"Okay, well, I think it's safe to say we didn't come by ferry." Phil looked down at his phone, trying to mentally figure things out.

"Let's just find Stu and see what we can do about getting out of Barcelona and back to Ibiza," Doug suggested, adjusting his disheveled dress shirt he had worn the night before to Phil and Sam's rehearsal dinner and then out for the Jack and Jill party.

"We can't call him," Phil informed. "I think you have his cell phone. I called his number and the ringing led Alan and me to you."

Doug shoved his hands in his pockets, pulling out not one but two cell phones. "I guess you're right. Okay, so maybe we just give a look around this cathedral and see if he's asleep somewhere?"

The three of them split up and checked every nook and cranny available to be checked that wasn't off limits to tourists or general outsiders like them. Eventually, Phil made his way out of a gate to a cloister where he was met by several white geese waddling around a fountain in the center. He nearly stepped on one has he called out Stu's name a few times. A short amount of time later, Doug walked out into the cloister and noticed the geese right away with a smirk on his lips.

"I just tried asking a nun if she'd seen Stu but she just started lecturing me about something in Spanish."

"If it's the same nun who woke me up, she wasn't speaking Spanish," Phil replied nonchalantly as he held up his phone. "I think we should try calling the girls. Maybe Stu pulled a you like when we were in Bangkok for his wedding. Maybe he's back at the resort."

"Good idea."

Alan walked out just then and immediately grinned from ear to ear when he saw all the geese. "Oh my goodness," he gushed. "I wonder if any of them ever laid a golden egg before." As Phil selected a number to call, his blue eyes wandered over to watch Alan approach two geese with his hand outstretched only for both geese to snap their beaks defensively at him, causing Alan to jerk backward.

Phil chuckled slightly under his breath and then focused on the phone call which went straight to voicemail after a few rings. _"Hey, this is Tracy. Can't get your call right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you!"_

"Tracy's not answering," Phil said to Doug, immediately scrolling through some other phone numbers to try.

"Maybe she's still asleep at the hotel or busy with my kids."

"Yeah, probably. Let me try Sam."

Doug raised an eyebrow and smirked up at Phil. "You didn't call the woman you're marrying tomorrow first?"

"Well, Tracy's always been the go-to person we call when we fuck up. Why break with tradition?" Phil brought his phone back up to his ear as Alan suddenly ran to the opposite side of the cloister, being pursued by an angry goose.

"Down, boy! _Down_!" Alan was shouting, pointing his finger like a parent reprimanding his child.

_"This is Sam. Sorry I missed your call. Do your thing after the beep."_

Phil muttered something incoherent under his breath, then audibly, "Got Sam's voicemail, too."

"Alright," Doug sighed. "Third time's a charm? Try Lauren's cell."

Phil did just that and after the second ring, he got an answer. _"Hello?"_ came Lauren's voice.

Phil breathed a sigh of relief. "Lauren, it's Phil. Is Stu there?"

_"No. I was actually just getting ready to call you. He didn't come back to the hotel last night."_

"Fuck," Phil groaned. "Listen, Lauren...I don't know how or why, but we blacked out again and ended up in Barcelona."

_"Barcelona? And Stu's not there with you?"_

Phil shook his head despite Lauren not being able to see him doing so. "No, we woke up in a church. Doug has Stu's phone. We can't find him."

_"So, let me get this straight. You lost my _husband _this time?"_

"Looks like it," Phil spoke, looking around the cloister. Doug had wandered over to Alan in order to help assist him in call off the attacking goose. "I tried calling Sam and Tracy and got their voicemails. Can you pass the message on to them about our situation?"

_"I would if they were here."_

Phil was silent for a few moments. He didn't even blink. He just stared blankly ahead for what seemed like forever before replying with, "Wait...what do you mean they're not there?"

_"I threw up at that bar we were at last night so Sam's sister-in-law Emily said she'd come back to the hotel with me. Sam's sister Amanda and her two friends Yolanda and Sean got back around one because they were tired and the rest of you weren't done partying yet."_

"So, you don't know if Sam, Stu and Tracy would've wound up in Barcelona with us as some point last night or are somewhere else in Ibiza right now?" he questioned. "Fuck me."

_"I'll be heading down to the hotel's restaurant with Henry for breakfast in a minute. I'll ask around if anyone's seen them. Maybe they got back so late they haven't even gone to bed yet and are already downstairs eating, or maybe they're out for an early morning swim."_

"Whatever. Can you just keep me updated?" Phil requested. "And if you can't get a hold of me on my phone, you can call Doug or Stu since Doug has both phones."

_"Alright. And, Phil...if I can't find my husband here, you sure as hell better find him and bring him back to me in one piece. I'm serious. No missing anything."_

"I promise, Lauren. We'll keep each other updated if we find anything out." As an afterthought, he added, "One more thing..."

_"Yeah?"_

"Don't tell Sam's parents about this, _especially_ her mother. We don't need her going Mommy Dearest on us."

_"Okay."_

After hanging up with Lauren, Phil put his phone away and covered his face with his hands. Doug walked over to him and scratched his head. Alan stood up from where he had taken a seat on the edge of the fountain to join the other two.

"What did Lauren say?"

"Stu didn't come back to the hotel last night and as far as she knows, neither did Sam and Tracy."

"So, our best friend and girls can be lost somewhere out there?"

Phil grimaced. It was a different feeling when it was _his_ wedding that was the pending nuptial taking place one day after waking up from a blackout. The previous three times it had been happened to Doug, Stu and Sam's sister. When push came to shove and were he a heartless bastard, he could've easily walked away those other weekends. This was different. This was more personal because it was _his_ fiancée that was missing."

"Maybe the three of them are together, waking up like _we _did and looking for _us_," Alan suggested, giving a few of the geese some serious stank eye.

"That's not a bad thought, actually," Phil remarked. "Okay...so, let's get out of this church and see where the day takes us. Maybe I can find that priest who was talking to me when I woke up. Maybe he saw one of the others with us or knows how we ended up here."

As the three walked out of the cloister and back into the cathedral, a goose honked at Alan, so he kicked it with the side of his foot.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, in some sort of fancy penthouse suite, Stu was waking up. His glasses were crooked on the bridge of his nose as his eyes slowly opened and began to focus on his surroundings. As he looked around, he saw that he was in some ornately, gorgeous living room of sorts. He was sitting upright in a chair and when he went to stand up he found himself stuck in place and the force of going to stand caused him to fall forward on his face with no way to stop himself. The chair came with him and he let out a grunt of pain.<p>

"_Ow_," he groaned. As he wriggled to right himself, he peered down at his chest and could see that his arms and legs were tied to the chair. His eyes immediately became big saucers and gradually he began to freak out. "What the fuck..._what the fuck_?"

"Stu?" came a groggy, feminine voice.

Stu rolled over to his side, the chair moving with him. He looked upward to notice two other chairs, with Tracy and Sam both strapped to them the same way he was to his. Sam was waking and looking toward him with questioning and tired eyes. Her upper right arm, which was facing him, had a large bruise on it and it looked very sore.

"Sam? I think something bad happened."

Sam's eyes began to take in Stu's position on the floor with his chair and quickly realized she was tied to her chair. Looking to her left she saw Tracy was still asleep with her head tilted back, her mouth slightly agape. Kicking her leg out, Sam was able to tap Tracy on the knee to stir her awake.

"Tracy...Tracy..."

Tracy woke up with a shudder and looked as if she was going to start hyperventilating when she saw the other two.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "What happened?"

Sam shrugged as best as she could in her restraints. "We don't know."

"I'll tell you what happened," came a male voice with a snide, French accent.

The man in question appeared in the doorway from to the living room area to the penthouse suite coming from probably the bedroom. Behind him were two massive, blonde Juggernaut types who would've fit in perfectly with a steroidal version of Hitler's regime some seventy-five years earlier. The Frenchman himself was also blonde, but not as fair-skinned as the thugs. His particular shade of blonde hair wasn't as light either. His eyes were dark and he looked incredibly haughty with a side of 'someone-just-pissed-in-my-cereal'.

"Who are you?" Stu asked, not able to see the man well enough from how he laid sideways on the floor with his chair.

The Frenchman gestured to one of his thugs to go over to Stu. The thug grabbed Stu's chair with him in it and lifted both up like a sack of feathers, and placed Stu and the chair upright, with Stu letting out a yelp in the process.

"I am Gabriel Marceau and you are my insurance."

Sam knitted her brow. "'_Insurance'_? For what?"

"Your lover boy has something that belongs to me," Gabriel answered.

Stu groaned. "Oh, great. What did Phil steal for you _this_ time?" he muttered to Sam. She just frowned at him.

"He has two million euros that should be mine. Instead _he_ has them. And, unless I get it in full..." Gabriel began to grin.

"What?" Tracy questioned, nervously.

"If I do not get my money in full by tomorrow morning, I will kill each of you...slowly...one by one."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Finally updated. Had some serious brain farting going on the last couple of days. Also, to keep with tradition, Gabriel is being "played" by Todd Phillips' hat trick, Bryan Callen (Eddie in "Part I", Samir in "Part II" and Vinny in my "Part III")._


	6. Lost In Translation

_**A/N:** Took a while to bang this out. Was a bit lost on how to start it and what I wanted to happen during this chapter. It was a two-day effort when I can usually write one chapter in one sitting. Anywho, it turned out longer than previous chapters as it bounces back and forth between what's going on with Phil, Doug and Alan, as well as what's going on with Stu, Sam and Tracy. ENJOY, my pretties._

* * *

><p>After leaving the cathedral, the three guys, including Doug but not Stu this time, walked across the plaza to take a seat at one of the small, empty tables on the terrace outside a small restaurant of sorts called Cafeteria Pizzeria Estruch. Phil immediately leaned forward, placing his head in his hands as Doug and Alan continued inside to get some coffee for all three of them, difficult as it would be as neither knew Spanish or Catalan. Phil dropped his right hand to the table, staring at the back of it at a smudged stamp. He couldn't make out what it had said or pictured, just that it was now a smudge of ink upon his skin. He turned his attention to the left, to the cathedral they had woken up in, still trying to contemplate how they got there, or in Barcelona at all. As he knitted his brow together, Doug came sauntering back outside to the table with two cups of coffee in his hands and wearing an exasperated expression that was clearly directed toward Alan.<p>

"No, Alan, I'm positive," Doug commented, finishing some conversation he must've been having with his brother-in-law.

Phil glanced at the pair, taking the extra coffee that was offered to him by his shorter friend. "What are you positive about?"

"Alan thinks bullfighting is Spain's national sport," Doug replied, sitting down.

"I'm pretty sure it is," Alan insisted.

"And I'm pretty sure _soccer_ is the national sport."

Phil looked over his coffee cup at Alan, gesturing slightly. "Bullfighting isn't actually a sport," he informed.

"It's not?" Alan narrowed his eyes. "Are you positive?"

Doug met Phil's gaze and flashed him a look that said, _See what I mean?_ Phil just smirked faintly in return. "I've one hundred percent positive."

This seemed to appease Alan who sat back in the chair he had taken across the table from Phil and to the right of Doug. "Well, as long as you're one hundred percent." However accepting of this Alan seemed, the tone in his voice still expressed a certain amount of doubt. "Maybe, if we have time, we can take in a bullfight while we're here. I've always wanted to see one."

"There won't be time. We have to figure out where Stu and the girls are and get back to Ibiza somehow. Phil and Sam have a lot to do before their wedding tomorrow. We don't want them rushing at the very last minute like Stu and I had to." Doug took a sip from his coffee and then set it down.

"You're right, Doug. Hopefully third time is a charm."

"Fourth time," Phil interjected. "Sam's sister's wedding was the third."

Alan shrugged. "That doesn't technically count. None of our wolf pack was getting married. So _this_ time is the third."

"Whatever, man."

"So," Doug began, looking at Phil. "I'm new to this whole hangover scavenger hunt for people thing. What happens now?"

Phil looked at Alan then set his coffee down. He sat back in his chair and stretched out slightly to reach his hands down into his pockets. "First we check our pockets for clues. Wallets, cell phones...there could be something that pinpoints us in a certain direction."

Alan was already on it. He had the contents of his pockets dumped onto the table. They included his cell phone, pager, passport, wallet, some euro coins and banknotes, a used Band-Aid. Doug pulled both his and Stu's cell phones out, set them on the table and then grabbed for his wallet, looking through it for anything out of the ordinary.

"I have a receipt in here for some place called Flores Navarro." Doug showed the receipt to Phil.

"What time is stamped on there?" Phil didn't bother looking up at it as he was too busy looking through his own shit.

"Uh..." Doug brought the receipt back up to his face to scan his eyes over it for a time. "3:52 AM."

Phil pulled out a receipt of his own and raised his brow. "I have a receipt from there, too. From...3:54."

"What the hell is Flores Navarro?" Doug wondered.

Phil shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Let's grab a taxi and go find out."

* * *

><p>"<em>Two million euros<em>!" Stu whined under his breath at Sam and Tracy.

Gabriel Marceau was pacing on the patio outside the penthouse suite. They still had no idea where they were, other than they were in said penthouse suite, at some hotel that was situated on some hilly terrain judging by the view of some city below and a large body of water beyond that.

"_Two million_!" Stu repeated. "That's, like, almost three million in American dollars!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Stu, you freaking out like a little girl isn't going to help our situation any. It's just going to give you an ulcer and make all of us more miserable."

Stu frowned. "I can't help it. I've never been taken hostage before and threatened with death. This is new to me."

"Well, you're not the only one so quit your bitching," Sam snipped.

"I can't believe any of this is happening," Tracy muttered, her dark eyes pained with worry. "I feel like this is happening to someone else."

Sam craned her neck to peer at Gabriel who seemed to be talking to someone on his cell phone while one of the goons from before was watching the three closely with his eyes only. They were talking low enough where their voices weren't that audible to the goon. "We need to figure a way out of here."

"And how do you propose we do that when we're tied to chairs?" Stu demanded.

"My legs aren't. That's gotta count for something," she replied, to which Stu continued to frown. "I can ask to go to the bathroom and then grab something from inside to bash that thug's head in."

Tracy gave a subtle look over her shoulder at the guy. Her back was to the patio door where he was standing. "I don't think the Hulk can be taken down by any kind of household appliance you might find in the bathroom."

"Then I'll have to get creative." Biting her lip, Sam turned toward the goon. "Hey, Schwarzenegger," she called out, referencing his body-building physique. "I have to pee."

The goon just stared at her. "_Qu'avez-vous dit_?"

"Fuck," Sam groaned. "I don't speak French."

Tracy smirked. "I do. I took it all through high school and college." Tracy turned her head toward the goon as much as she could. "_Excusez-moi, monsieur. Mon ami a besoin d'utiliser la salle de bain_."

_"Ce n'est pas mon problème."_

Stu leaned forward, glancing at Tracy. "What did he say?"

"I told him Sam has to use the bathroom and he said it's not his problem," Tracy sighed. "What an asshole."

"He's bad guy with a neck the size of Texas. Of course he's an asshole."

"Tell him if he doesn't let me go to the bathroom, I'm going to piss all over the floor and he's going to have to clean it up," Sam remarked.

Tracy and Stu couldn't help but smirk at Sam's bluntness. "Okay," Tracy spoke. "_Monsieur, s'il vous plaît. Si vous ne laissez pas mon amie d'aller aux toilettes, elle va se faire pipi et que vous aurez à le nettoyer_."

The goon made a face. Slowly, he stepped away from the patio door and walked toward the trio. He stepped behind Sam's chair and began to mess with the ties binding her arms together behind it. He looked over at Tracy as he did this with a stern face. "_Ne pas essayer quelque chose de drôle ou je vais pression de son cou._"

Tracy pursed her lips together and nodded obediently. "He said he'll break your neck if we try anything funny."

"I take it he doesn't mean funny as in hilarious," Sam quipped despite the tenseness of the situation. As soon as her arms were unbound, the goon grabbed her right arm and pulled her up to her feet forcing her to walk ahead of him toward the bathroom.

"Be careful," Stu whispered to her.

"I can't promise that."

The goon led her into through the bedroom to the bathroom. He turned the light on for her and then pointed a thick finger at her. "_Faîtes vite_."

"Yeah, I still don't speak French, dickwad," she remarked as he shut the door in her face. Sam turned and looked around the bathroom, immediately trying to figure out what she could possibly use that was at her disposal.

* * *

><p>"...and she was wearing a short, black dress...um...black-o," Phil was saying, pissed he couldn't communicate in Spanish. He was busy trying to describe what Sam looked like the night before to the worker at Flores Navarro which turned out to be a florist shop that was open 247. "Auburn hair...about this tall..." he held his hand up to his shoulder.

The worker just shrugged apologetically; not because they couldn't recall what Sam looked like, but because they had no idea what Phil was trying to say. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Phil walked up to the next worker he could find, and older woman, and grabbing a hold of her arm as gently as possible.

"Excuse me, do you speak English?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, turning toward Doug and gesturing. "Doug, I found one who speaks English." Turning back to the woman, he clapped his hands together. "Yes, you can help me. My friends and I were here very early this morning, around four. We have receipts from buying something here. Flowers, I take it. We need to know if there was anyone else with us."

"Let me check with Esperanza. Her shift started at three this morning and she is here for another hour. She will be able to help you, I am sure."

"Does she speak English, too?"

The woman shook her head. "Only a little, but I will still translate for you."

"_Gracias_," Doug commented, having walked up and heard the back and forth between Phil and the woman. "I know that much at least," he said to Phil, specifically.

"_De nada_," the woman smiled. She led the way over to an aisle of sorts where there were all different varieties of flowers in gray, plastic holders. "Esperanza," she called out to a woman who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

Esperanza was petite and graceful with every move she made, her hair was like black satin and her skin was richly tanned. When she turned to face the older woman and the three men, her warm chocolate eyes immediately brightened as she smiled with full lips. "_Hola_, Phil, Doug," she greeted in a very feminine voice, pronouncing their names as Feel and Dog with her accent.

"Wait, so, you remember us?" Phil questioned, gesturing between himself and Doug.

Esperanza bit her bottom lip and looked to the older woman. "_Lo sentimos, qué es lo que quiere saber_?"

"_Te acuerdas de ellos_?" the older woman asked.

"Oh," she looked at Phil and nodded. "Yes."

"Was there another man and two women with us early this morning?" Doug asked.

Once again, the older woman translated. "_Había dos mujeres y un hombre con ellos esta mañana_?"

"_Dos de cada_," Esperanza answered to the woman, but at Phil and Doug she said, struggling with her English, "Two women...two men."

Doug crinkled his nose. "_Two _men? Who else was with us?" he looked at Phil.

Pulling out his cell phone, Phil brought up a picture of Sam and showed it to Esperanza. "Her?" he pointed to the picture. Esperanza nodded, so he located another picture of himself, Doug and Stu, pointing to Stu. "Him?" Again, Esperanza nodded.

Doing the same, Doug showed Esperanza a picture of Tracy on his phone and she confirmed it.

"Yes. _Su mujer y su amigo Stu._"

The older woman translated, "Your women and friend Stu."

"_Y su otro amigo_," Esperanza continued.

"What?" Phil muttered. "_Amigo_ means friend, right?"

The older woman nodded. "She said you had another friend with you."

"What did he look like?"

"Esperanza, _qué hizo el otro aspecto tiene_?"

"_Pequeño, el chino_."

"Small and Chinese," the older woman informed Phil and Doug who looked between each other.

Doug didn't seem to grasp the significance, but Phil did. "Chow?" Phil questioned.

"What about Chow?" Alan asked, finally finding the others and holding an array of flowers in his hand he must've just purchased.

When Esperanza saw him, her face lit up like a kid at Christmas. She hurried up to him and threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug and kissed both sides of his face. "Alan!" she exclaimed, happily, pronouncing his name as Ah-lan.

Doug and Phil exchanged a look between each other, amused and confused by the greeting Alan received. "Esperanza here says Mr. Chow was with us when we were here about four this morning," Phil said.

Alan was busy staring at the pretty Spanish lady hugging and kissing him. He looked awkward, not sure how to react, so he just stared wide-eyed at her and pulled two purple carnations from the bunch in his hands and handed them to her. She looked down at them and took them graciously, pressing them up against her ample chest.

"Thank you, Alan. You sweet."

He couldn't help it. He smiled. "You have nice hair."

Esperanza looked to the older woman, who translated, and when she heard the translation, she smiled and touched her free hand to several strands of her dark hair.

"I don't mean to interrupt this Hallmark moment, but why the fuck was Chow with us last night?" Phil cut into the banter with an eye roll.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you," Alan began, finding it hard to stop smiling at the fact that some pretty female actually seemed interested in him. "I felt bad that Chow didn't get to come to Stu's wedding as my plus one because he got arrested. After we got back from New York I got back in contact with him more frequently and last week I asked him to be my plus one again. He was supposed to arrive tonight, actually." Alan looked directly at Phil and shrugged. "I guess he got in early."

Phil held up his hand, ignoring the moon eyes Esperanza had for Alan which had Doug looking honestly perplexed. "Let me get this straight: you invited Chow to my wedding and didn't tell me?"

Alan shrugged. "I didn't think you would care. You're not paying for it."

"Alan, that's beside the point. You should've at least asked me. It's the polite thing to do."

"I'm sorry, Phil," Alan pouted. "Chow was so happy to be invited. He even said he was going to get you something nice for your wedding because he didn't forget how you returned his wife's ring."

Phil's slightly aggravated stare softened. "What was he going to get me?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, well...we know Stu and the girls were with us when we left here at four. That shortens the gap of time when we lost them," Doug cut in, steering the conversation back in the right direction. "We probably only had about another hour or two before we ended up at the cathedral without them."

"But where did we go after here?" Phil wondered. "Unless we can figure that out, we're fucked."

"Hey, what's the United States' calling code?"

Phil and Doug turned to see Alan typing something into his phone and so was Esperanza.

"What are you two crazy kids doing?" Doug asked, not able to help but smirk for at the interaction.

"Exchanging our phone numbers," Alan replied. "Spanish numbers are weird."

Phil furrowed his brow. "How do you expect to talk to each other, Alan? She's not fluent in English and you don't know Spanish?"

"I know how to order from Taco Bell just fine."

Phil wasn't going to bother arguing that one. "We need to find out where we went next. Esperanza, did we say where we were going after here?"

The older woman touched Esperanza's arm to get her attention and then translated, "_Te dijeron que iban después de aquí_?"

Esperanza shrugged. "_No sé exactamente dónde se fue el siguiente, pero usted dijo que quería ir de fiesta un poco más_."

"She said she does not know exactly where it was next, but you said you wanted to party some more."

Alan chuckled. "We like to party a lot."

"Are there any bars or nightclubs nearby?" Doug asked.

"There is Sala Bikini, Elephant Club..." the older woman rattled off.

Doug nudged Phil's arm. "I think we should try both of those next."

"Alright. Let's get out of here and find another taxi." Phil nodded to the older woman and Esperanza. "Thanks for the help."

"You are welcome," the older woman commented.

"Alan," Phil called as him and he and Doug began toward the exit. The tubby man was straggling, distracted by Esperanza. "Time to go, buddy. We have more important shit to do than you ogling Esperanza."

Alan immediately frowned and kicked his foot at the floor as if he were kicking up dirt. "The one time a lady seems to like me and I can't even try to have a conversation with her." He folded his arms childishly and stomped forward. "I never get to do what I want."

"I already have a five year old, Alan. I don't need another one." Phil looked back and glared, leading the way out to the street.

"_Au revoir_, Esperanza," Alan said to her before he was completely out of her sight, pronouncing the goodbye as 'or revoyeur'.

"Alan, that's French," Doug commented.

"I thought Esperanza was a Spanish name."

"It is. _Au revoir _is French for goodbye. _Adios_ is goodbye in Spanish."

"Well, France isn't that far from Spain. Just over some mountains right? Don't you think Esperanza knows some French?"

"Who honestly gives a fuck, Alan? She barely knows any English and England is above France."

Alan scowled at Phil. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the altar this morning."

Phil just stopped and stared, hands on his hips. "I swear, I will smack you."

"That's not very nice."

"No, but it'll make me feel better."

"It'll hurt, and not just my skin but also my feelings."

"Alan," Doug spoke, trying to defuse the growing tension between his best friend and brother-in-law. "Phil's just worried about Sam right now and they're getting married tomorrow. He's a little stressed, okay?"

"Aren't you worried about Tracy?"

"Of course I am. She's my wife, the mother of my children _and _your sister."

"What about Stu? Are you worried about _him_?"

"Alan, please, just stop talking," Phil seethed, clenching his teeth as he looked up and down the road for any sign of a taxi.

"Yes, we're worried about Stu, too," Doug insisted.

"What about Chow? He's probably lost. Are you wor—"

_SMACK!_

Alan teetered back on the balls of his feet, blindsided by the palm of Phil's hand suddenly making harsh contact with the side of his face. "_Ow_, Phil!"

"No more talking," was all Phil said as he waved down an approaching taxi.

* * *

><p>A series of knocks fell upon the bathroom door. "<em>Que faites-vous là-dedans<em>?" Gabriel's goon was standing outside the door and grabbed for the knob, trying to turn it to open it, but it was locked. "_Déverrouillez cette porte et sortir. Maintenant_!"

The door unlocked and Sam peered out a little. "Sorry." One hand was behind her back, the other patted her stomach. "Upset stomach." When the goon stepped back and gestured for her to come out, she hesitated. She pointed for him to lead the way. "You first."

The second he looked forward, not knowing why exactly she had pointed in front of them because he could not understand a word she said, Sam lifted the hand that was behind her back. She was holding onto a ceramic tissue box cover and brought it crashing up against the side of the goon's head with as much force as she could muster. He stumbled over to the side, dropping to his knees as his face hit the corner of the bed's mattress. Letting the ceramic tissue box cover slip from her hands, Sam took off in a sprint out of the bedroom to find Stu and Tracy looking at her with wide eyes.

"What was that thud? Where's the big bad guy?" Stu questioned, looking nervously in the direction of the bedroom and then toward the patio where Gabriel and the second goon could no longer be seen from where they were inside.

Sam was immediately behind Stu's chair, untying his binds. "I hit him on the head with a ceramic tissue box cover. He dropped like a bag of bricks but I don't know how long it'll keep him down. In case you didn't notice, he's built Ford tough."

As soon as she had Stu's arms undone, she let him finish by untying his own legs and then she scurried over to Tracy and began to work on untying the brunette's arms. Stu had his legs free and stumbled at first when he stood up. His legs had fallen asleep a bit from sitting in that position for God knows how long. However, he was quickly back on his feet and knelt down to work on untying Tracy's feet while Sam finished with her arms. Once Tracy was freed, she joined the other two and they stood together.

"Come on!" Sam cried out, gesturing for them to follow her toward the penthouse suite's front door. She unlatched the lock and swung the door open, just as Gabriel came walking into the living room from the patio!

"Hey!" he shouted angrily after them.

Stu turned around in time to see the Frenchman pull a gun out of his jacket and aim it at the threesome. Stu yelped and pushed the girls forward out the door. "He's got a gun, he's got _fucking _gun!"

Literally seconds after they were out of the penthouse, two shots were fired, but lodged in the wall beside the door. Stu and the girls ran up the elevators and pressed the down button repeatedly in anxious fear.

"Oh, God...this elevator isn't going to get here soon enough!" Tracy exclaimed, looking around. "The stairs!" she pointed at a door a few feet away.

They ran to the stairs door and pushed it open, tearing off down the flights of stairs as fast as they could, which wasn't as easy for the girls as it was for Stu because they were both in heels from the night before. They gripped the metal railing as they swung around each curve in the stairwell, stopped momentarily when they heard the same door they'd ran through about two flights up bang open. A few moments later, shots were fired down the center of the stairwell, with one bullett ricocheting and hitting the wall behind them.

Stu and the girls screamed but continued running. Gabriel and what sounded like both goons — the one Sam hit must've come to as quickly as she suspected he would — were shouting after them and shooting some more. This time the next scream heard was more of a cry of pain. Sam stumbled forward down the last couple of steps to the landing they were coming upon. She skidded onto her knees and Stu was right there beside her, picking her up.

"You okay?" he asked, panic in his voice, as he helped her to her feet as fast as he could.

"I think I got shot!"

Tracy touched Sam's right shoulder, pulling her hand away with blood smeared on her fingertips. "Oh no, they _did_ shoot you. _Oh my God_! We gotta get out of this stairwell..."

Sam winced and nodded toward the door to the floor they were nearing. "There. We'll head to that floor and maybe catch the elevator the rest of the way down."

And that's what they did. They quietly went through the door and ran into the hallway where they found two elevators waiting. Tracy pressed the down button and they were fortunate that the elevator was only a floor above. It dinged open within seconds and they filed in as quickly as possible with Tracy hitting the button to close the door several times. When the doors closed, they breathed their first sigh of relief and then Tracy pressed the button for the lobby.

With a moment to catch their breaths and gather their thoughts, Stu stepped behind Sam to inspect the gunshot wound she had to her right shoulder blade.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked. "It hurts like a bitch."

Stu frowned. "It's superficial. The bullet only grazed you, but it was a deep graze. We should find a hospital."

Tracy patted her sides. "I don't have my purse. It had my phone, IDs, passport, money..."

Sam looked at Tracy, then down at herself. "I don't either. Stu? Do you have a phone or anything in your pockets?"

Stu dropped his hands from Sam's shoulder, getting some of her blood on his pants as he shoves his hands into his pockets. There was a moment of hope in the girls' eyes as they watched him, only for that hope to disappear when Stu frowned and shook his head.

"I got nothing."

"Fuck. That's the problem with cell phones, I don't remember anyone's phone numbers by heart anymore. Do you?" Sam asked Tracy.

Tracy shook her head. "No. It's just so easy when it's already programmed in. You press a person's name and _voilà_: phone number dialed."

"I don't even know my _own _cell number by heart," Stu offered up.

"We're so fucked," Sam whined.

"Well, we could just catch a cab back to the hotel and someone _there _could pay for it," Tracy commented, biting her bottom lip.

The elevator doors dinged open and the three of them sauntered out, walking fast toward the reception desk of the hotel they were in.

"Excuse me," Stu called out to the desk clerk, a young Spanish woman with a name tag that said Clara on it. "_Hola_, Clara...we've been attacked by some bad guys in one of your penthouse suites and my friend here was shot. We're gonna need the police called and, uh...what hotel are we in?"

"_Qué_?" Clara asked.

"_Yo estaba tornasolado por un hombre llamado Gabriel Marceau. Llamar a la policía_," Sam translated. "_Y por favor, díganos dónde estamos ahora_."

"_Usted está en el Gran Hotel La Florida_."

"Where are we?" Stu wondered.

"The Gran Hotel La Florida," Sam replied.

"Okay, but are we still in San Antonio on Ibiza?"

Hearing the name Ibiza caught Clara's ear. She smiled politely and shook her head. "_No. No es Ibiza. Barcelona_."

Stu just stared, his eyes widening. "Did she just say we're in Barcelona?" Sam nodded. "How the fuck did we get to Barcelona?" he squealed, just as the elevator doors dinged again and out walked Gabriel Marceau and his two goons as casually as possible while eyeing on Stu and the girls.

"That's them! They have guns!" Tracy shouted, pointing at Gabriel.

"_Clara doesn't speak English_!" Stu screeched.

"Fuck this shit," Sam muttered. "Just _run_!" She took off first, running toward the hotel's front entrance. Stu grabbed Tracy's hand and pulled her along to catch up with Sam who was surprisingly fast like a freak when she needed to be. Perhaps it was because she was shorter and closer to the ground.

The three of them burst through the front entrance and into the awaiting October morning sunlight. It wasn't horribly hot out, but it was warm. Much like Los Angeles during the fall months. They darted down to the main road and cut through traffic, just running and not looking back to see if Gabriel and his goons were following.


End file.
